


heaven waiting, impatient, for me

by nosecoffee



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Blatant Hurt, Christmas fic, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Jared is a great friend, M/M, Mild Smut, Near Death Experience, New Conspiracy: Connor didn't finish the milk, Overdosing, The Amazing Asshole Jared Kleinman, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, idek what this is, this is pretty fever dream writing, this is really late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 16:03:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13321665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: So, of course, Evan Hansen has to come and fuck everything up.After that party, that awful heart-to-heart and Evan falling asleep on him and having a nightmare and the awkward silence while Connor drove Evan home, in Evan’s friends car, Evan Hansen meets his eyes too many times in the hallway, and in classrooms, and the library, and the computer lab, and across the parking lot as he makes the short walk across the road and through an underpass to get to his housing complex that is just as confusing as the maze of Connor's backyard.





	heaven waiting, impatient, for me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrinceDrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceDrew/gifts).



> Title from "Runaway" by AURORA
> 
> This is so late, I'm so sorry! Uh, this is a Christmas present for @PrinceDrew because they are amazing and stuff. I'm sorry this took so long to get out, apparently I'm hopeless.

Connor's porch is made of tan bricks, opening up to a maze of paved courtyards, made of the same bricks.

His mother had always like flowers and things in pots, and his father had never been inspired enough to mow the lawn himself, or be bothered to hire a professional or pay a teenager from down the street to do it, so what was the point having a practical garden, anyway?

Connor's garden is ornamental, filled with delicate or rare flowers, and greenhouses that open to display bamboos and bonsai trees and other such plants. The garden is a hobby to his mother that she's been forced to keep, even once the novelty's worn off and she's no longer interested in planting more daffodil bulbs.

It's not a garden fit for children, or that's how Connor found it as a child, himself, with too many scraped knees instead of grass stains, and screams about his mother's prize-winning orchids instead of sympathy.

Connor is well aware that his garden is not fit for children.

Still, on nights when he's still awake at ungodly hours, he sneaks out into one of the more secluded courtyards and gazes at the barely visible stars until sleep finally finds him.

(Sometimes, Connor thinks maybe sleep gets lost in the maze of courtyards, too.)

And, if he's terribly unlucky, on those nights, he dreams.

~

What seriously sucks about having an absent father is that sometimes he feels the need to send postcards. And, you know, postcards are neat, if you're a postcard kinda person, or a person who blu-taks them, picture side out, to your bedroom wall.

Evan is not a postcard kind of person, nor is he the kind of person to decorate his walls with pictures of the Grand Canyon and the Space Needle. He doesn't think they're neat. Every single one of them sounds like a taunt, like an insult, like his father is only sending them to remind Evan that he isn't there

_Greetings From Literally Anywhere But Where You Are!_

_Fuck Your Religion, Merry Christmas!_

_Happy Birthday, On The Wrong Day!_

_Glad I'm Not There!_

Evan is, needless to say, fucking over it all. He throws away the postcards, without reading them, after a while. But he knows his mother digs them back out, shutting them in a folder that stays under her bed. Evan thinks she maybe hasn't let him go yet.

He's just bitter enough to ask her why. He never does, though.

He leaves the postcards on the kitchen and goes to his room as fast as he can because he can't bear the thought of his mother being so desperate for a word from the man who abandoned her that she'd dig it out of the garbage.

~

Before senior year, when he dreams, he dreams of Zoe. Most exclusively Zoe, though his parents are present often enough for it to be noteworthy.

When they were kids, he and Zoe had the best dress-up costumes money could buy.

Dresses and skirts made of shiny and exquisite material that swished when you twirled and wasn't heavy when you held it. Play armour with helmets and fake chainmail, and hobby horses that rattled as they were dragged across the floor by careless, mindless children. Wooden swords and matching scabbards, and cloaks that swallowed the both of them with how large they were.

Now that they're older, Connor sees Zoe in weirder versions of their dress-ups. He sees her in a floaty, loose purple dress, the straps falling down her shoulders, feet bare, hair hanging, untied, pacing a stone room with no door, and a large, glassless arch that serves as her only window to the outside world. The way down is much too far, and the stones far too steep to try and climb. Her only light is the candle on the top of her mostly-bare dresser. A four poster bed sits on the other side of the room.

And still, she paces. Trapped. Waiting. What is she waiting for?

Who is she waiting for?

She mutters as she walks, the hem of her dress brushing the floor, hair swaying. She looks distressed.

Zoe crosses to the window, and leans her elbows on the sill, her chin in her hands. She gazes out, eyes hazy and tired, mouth pressed closed. The moon is setting over a far hill. The night is almost done.

Connor can't help but wonder how cold she must be.

Connor thinks he must be losing his fucking mind, or smoking something solid, when he wakes. Who dreams of their fucking sister?

Who dreams that their sister is a lost princess, trapped in a tower, waiting for her prince to come?

Connor doesn't know what to make of them.

Is he delusional? Are the dreams fantasies he entertains, because even their terror is better than his reality?

He doesn't know.

He doesn't tell anyone, either.

~

The fun thing about where Evan lives is that it's only a short walk to school. He doesn't mean _fun_ per se, but keeping up a positive energy in a strained household means he needs to substitute negative words with others. Or so his therapist says.

Another _fun_ thing about where he lives is that it's pretty much on the way to where you're going from where you started.

So that means that Jared walking him home is not that out of character, but inviting himself in and playing nice with Evan’s mother _is_ out of character, and is, if Evan is correct in remembering, also a source of panic and terror.

Evan pulls him aside once Evan’s mother turns to put the kettle on. “What are you - what are you doing?” He asks, once Jared’s far enough up the stairwell that his mother would have to strain to hear them.

(He'd learned this trick from her, when his father still used to call in for birthdays and Hannukah’s and stuff. Which stopped a year into them living in the housing complex.)

Jared holds his hands up in surrender. “Zoe Murphy’s holding a welcome back to school party, and we’re invited.” As if that's an acceptable explanation.

“What?” Evan demands.

“Zoe Murphy, the object of your instagram stalking habit, is holding a party at her house, and she's invited us.” Jared says, and crosses his arms, defensively. He's only known Jared for a few years, but he’s incredibly easy to read.

“Why?” Evan asks, confused. “She doesn't - she doesn't know us.”

(Evan’s never been to a party, much less invited to one, and he doesn't count the failed sleepover party from when he was in elementary school where he ended up calling his mother at one am to pick him up because he was having an anxiety attack.)

“I mean, saying _she_ invited us is a bit of a stretch.” Jared continues, his mouth twisting the way it does when he realises he's been caught in a lie.

“Do you want chamomile, Jared? We don't have any other tea, I'm afraid!” Evan’s mother calls.

“Chamomile sounds awesome, Mrs. Hansen!” He calls back, and then turns to Evan. “She got Alana Beck to spread the word out to the Seniors of her choice, and Alana took that to mean all of the Seniors, so we’re unofficially invited, so we’re going.”

“I don't want - I don’t _want_ to go.” Evan splutters, leaning against the wall, and thumbing at the hem of his t-shirt. What if there are drugs? What if someone pukes on him? What if someone calls the police?

“And what are you gonna do if you stay, huh?” Jared replies, and Evan stares back, without a sound response. Jared’s well and truly got him. “You'll end up living vicariously through her instagram feed, anyway, so why not be there, in the moment, to watch Dana P get drunk as hell and dance on their kitchen table?”

Evan rubs his arm, looking down. “I don't know.” He mumbles.

“We’re going.” His tone is final, and Evan knows his fate is sealed. “Evan, I'm doing this for your own good, you have to believe me on this one. I'll even drive you home. I'll promise your mom. C’mon.”

He can't help but sigh and agree. “F-fine.” Jared grins and Evan follows him back down the stairs, watching, with something akin to detachment, as his mother excitedly agrees to Jared’s parent-proof explanation of Zoe Murphy’s party, and how he'll definitely drive Evan home afterwards and not to wait up for them.

(Evan prepares a map from the Murphy’s house to his, because if he knows Jared he knows he'll he end up walking home, anyway.)

~

Connor's gotten really good at pretending, at this point. He's really great at it, actually. If there was an Olympic event for pretending, Connor would have gold.

Well, that's an exaggeration. But, the point still stands.

He's trying his best to seperate night terrors and drug-induced hallucinations from reality.

(He's not fucking high on the first day of school, and he tries really hard not to be, as well, knowing that Zoe’s throwing a party later, and knowing he'll need to be sober for that.)

But, it gets really hard. The gold medal he claims to have earned is strangling him. His good intentions flood his open mouth as he tries to scream. He's drowning.

If he dies, right now, this minute, no hesitation, no thought, no one will have ever known the real Connor Murphy.

And that's what scares him the most.

But the water isn't too high, yet.

He can keep pretending. He will.

It's all he has left. If the day is as exposing, as merciless as he fears, he can't risk letting the lie that is his life go.

That lie is the only thing keeping him going.

That lie is what he's hanging on the edge of.

~

“So, what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?” Evan asks Connor Murphy, sitting on a couch by the bay window.

Connor Murphy stares at him, unblinking for a moment, before replying, “I live here.”

“Fuck.” Evan finds himself saying. Connor looks rather surprised at the curse. Evan looks away. “Shit. Sorry. I'll just go and take my terrible conversation starters somewhere else, sorry for bothering you.”

“No, don't do that.” Connor stops him, taking him by the arm and sitting him down on the couch next to him. “Everyone else here is an asshole. You should also know that that sounded more like a pick-up line than a conversation starter, to me, but you do you.”

“It did?” Evan gazes, mournfully into Connor Murphy’s red solo cup. “I am so bad at this.”

“‘This’ being?”

“Human interaction.”

“I'll drink to that.” Connor takes a sip of water and peers at Evan as he swallows. “Don't come to parties, often?”

Evan shakes his head, lips going thin. “No.” The music is too loud. They're going to get a noise complaint. There's probably going to be police. Evan isn't optimistic for the fate of this house party.

“Me neither. My sister dragged me downstairs and told me to play nice.” Connor informs him.

“That sucks. My…family friend convinced my mother that going to this party was a good idea because it would help combat my social anxiety.” Evan glances around the party, hoping maybe he could see Jared, but coming up empty. He supposes that's not much of a loss. He knew he'd have to walk home anyway. “I think - I think maybe his parents made him bring me - he wouldn't have gone to all the trouble, much less taken me, otherwise.”

“Sounds like an asshole.” Connor comments, and then swipes Evan’s cup from his hand, plunking it down on the coffee table. “No, don't drink that; I watched a band kid spike that, earlier.”

“Oh.” He glances between his cup and the punch bowl. “I didn't…”

“Drink some water, if you're thirsty.” Connor says, gruffly, and passes Evan his cup.

“Thanks.”

“Don't thank me.” He snorts. “It's tap water. You don't _ever_ thank someone for giving you _tap water.”_

“What should I say if someone gives me _lake_ water?” Evan asks, jokingly, after swallowing a mouthful.

“Don't say a thing. Smack them up the back of the head.” This comment is met with more of Evan’s nervous laughter.

“Sounds needlessly violent to me.” He says.

“It'll get your point across.” Connor notes, looking out over the party with distaste.

“Which is?” Evan inquires, taking another sip of Connor’s tap water.

“‘Don't feed me something potentially poisonous’.”

“Oh. Great.” A new song comes on that is somehow even more grating on his ears, which is not great and Evan finds himself becoming more twitchy than before. Connor seems to notice.

“You don't look like you're having fun.” He says, although it's more like yelling, because it's hard to hear him over the music.

“I'm really not.” Evan yells back. “I feel like I'm about to break out in hives.”

“That's the spirit.” Connor says, jokingly, and Evan shoots him the most sarcastic thumbs up he can muster.

He jumps as two people sit down on the couch next to him, suddenly, trying to get each other into headlocks, and nearly elbowing Evan in the head as a result. “Is this what all parties feel like?” He asks.

“I wouldn't know.” Connor gives the two beside Evan a disdainful look, and then gives Evan a calculating look. “Do you want to hang out in my much quieter bedroom and make awkward small talk, there, instead?”

“Sure.” Evan says, and that's how he finds himself being led through the almost unmoveable crowd, to the staircase.

Connor grabs some kid pouring punch on someone's head halfway up the stairs by the collar and tells them go and clean it up with the most jarring death stare Evan has ever witnessed. Thankfully the music is muffled in Connor’s room.

Evan places the red solo cup of tap water on Connor’s bookshelf and Connor flops onto his bed, face first. Evan is left standing, awkwardly in the doorway. When he sits up properly and sees Evan fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt he rolls his eyes a little and motions for Evan to sit down on the bed, as well.

“So, if you're not big on parties, why is your sister throwing one?” Evan asks him, sitting down.

“Why does Zoe do anything?” Connor replies, almost like a rehearsed remark. When he sees Evan’s confused look he sighs. “Well, for one, my sister doesn't give a damn about me. For two, our parents decided it was a good idea to leave for a night and Zoe cat control herself. Technically, I'm supposed to be the adult in the house, while my parents are gone, but they don't trust me anymore and Zoe couldn't give less of a shit about what I think. It's easier to just go along with what she wants and help her clean up, afterwards.”

The door opens and two people stagger in. They stop once they see Evan and Connor.

“This room is occupied. Move along.” Connor barks, and they scramble out of the room, slamming the door behind them.

“Wow.” Evan remarks. He wasn't aware that people were scared of Connor. Or maybe they were just surprised to see him.

“I'm not having some random teenagers have sex on my bed. Especially while I'm on it.” Connor replies, and then his frown deepens. “I suppose the word ‘occupied’ should have been avoided, can't have helped the rumours about me being gay, sorry for dragging you into that.”

“That's fine.” Evan quickly says. “Rumours about you being gay?”

“Yeah. You sure you haven't heard them?”

“I'm not exactly involved or anything with the rumour mill, so, no, I haven't.”

“Well,” Connor says, stretching back against his pillows, “if I'm even a little bit right, you're about to become a part of those rumours. Sorry.”

“It's fine.” Evan says. He's surprised to find that it actually is.

~

Connor’s not quite sure when he fell asleep. It must have been a little bit after the bizarre story that Evan told him about his mother and their quest to see the horrible Last Airbender movie when it came out in cinema, before everyone knew it was terrible.

Either way, when he wakes up, it's darker, and quieter, and Evan is lying against his chest. There's a wet spot on his t-shirt and at first he thinks it's drool and then Evan’s frame is wracked with sobs and Connor realises he's crying.

Connor frowns and reaches down, carefully, placing his hand on Evan’s back, just between his shoulder blades. “Ev?” He whispers and Evan jerks, pulling away, eyes wild and disoriented. His face is shiny with tears, and his chest rises and falls erratically with heaving breaths.

Connor tears his eyes away, trying not to be rude. “Must have been one hell of a nightmare.” Connor whispers, slowly reaching out.

He jerks back, as if burned, wiping at his face. "No, I - _fuck_ \- I’m fine, nothing happened." Evan hiccups and turns, legs dangling over the side of the bed. Connor scoots forward and sits beside him.

"Wanna talk about it?” He offers, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, as well, wiping his eyes to get the sleep out.

“Not really.” Evan mumbles, and rubs his eyes with his wrist. He must be embarrassed. Connor bites his lip, not really knowing what to do. He glances at the clock. It's only quarter past one, but it feels later.

He tentatively wraps his arms around Evan’s shoulders. Evan tenses for a second and Connor thinks he must have been wrong, he must be making it worse, before Evan reaches up with both hands and clutches at the arm stretching across his chest, leaning into the touch.

“You gonna be okay?” He whispers. Evan doesn't so much respond as hum, nodding, slightly.

They stay like that until Evan is breathing steadily again.

“How are you getting home?” Connor asks, pulling away, he feels a little cold without Evan’s shoulder presses to his chest.

“My friend - family friend was gonna give me a ride.” Evan bites his lip and squints at his phone brightness when he turns it on. “He might have already left, though. It's pretty late.”

“Let’s go downstairs and check.” Connor says.

It's much quieter. There's less people in the house, and more people passed out in the living room and the kitchen and a few on the staircase. They hunt around for a little while and find Evan’s family friend - who just so happens to turn out to be Jared Kleinman - splayed across the kitchen table and that really makes Connor angry. He doesn't say a word.

They haul Jared, The Family Friend, out into the driveway, unlock his car with keys from his pocket, and carefully belt him into the backseat.

“What's your address?” Connor asks, once he's got the car on. Evan fiddles with the seatbelt and hands Connor his phone, already loaded with a route to his house. “You're awfully helpful, aren't you?”

Evan shakes his head, tiredly, letting it lean against the window. “Nope. Just paranoid.”

Connor nods, pulling carefully out of the driveway. “I'll drink to that.”

They don't speak on the drive over - Evan lives super near the school, it turns out - but he stops Evan before he fully climbs out of the car. "You know, I think you should take me out to dinner, before getting into bed with me, next time." Connor whispers and Evan laughs, softly.

“Goodnight, Connor.” He says, and closes the door before Connor can respond.

Connor watches him out his side window until he sees Evan go inside. Then he glances into the rear vision mirror and sighs when he sees Jared still passed out in the back. It's lucky Jared doesn't live too far away from Connor, so Connor doesn't have too much of a walk once he drops Jared and his car back at his house.

“Alright, let’s get you where you're going,” Connor says to Jared and drives out of the complex.

~

“Did you have fun, sweetie?” His mother asks, once Evan’s safely off the stairwell and almost all the way inside his bedroom. Evan turns to look at her, and smiles as widely as he can.

“Yeah, mom.” It does the trick. She smiles back, exhaustion written all over her face. She rubs at her face. Evan curses in his head; he woke her up.

“Did Jared drive you home?”

“Uh, no, he wants much up to driving.” He replies, rubbing the back of his neck. “The hosts brother drove us home.”

“That's nice of him.” She says, not looking particularly worried that Jared wants up to driving because he drank so much he passed out.

“Go back to bed, mom.” Evan says, softly.

“Right you are. You too, Mister Grown-Up-And-Partying-Responsibly.” She shoots him a few tired looking fingerguns and yawns.

“Night.”

“Night.”

He doesn't think about the worried look on Connor’s eyes after he woke up, of his arms around Evan’s shoulders or anything. He doesn't.

~

So, of course, Evan Hansen has to come and fuck everything up.

After that party, that awful heart-to-heart and Evan falling asleep on him and having a nightmare and the awkward silence while Connor drove Evan home, in Evan’s friends car, Evan Hansen meets his eyes too many times in the hallway, and in classrooms, and the library, and the computer lab, and across the parking lot as he makes the short walk across the road and through an underpass to get to his housing complex that is just as confusing as the maze of Connor's backyard.

Evan Hansen does not mean to infiltrate Connor's head, does not mean to make his train of thought completely jump the tracks and make his brain short circuit whenever Connor so much as hears his name or sees his smile or bumps into Evan in the cafeteria (which happens a lot more often than Connor would be proud to admit).

Of course, Evan Hansen seems to ruin everything.

He doesn't mean to, and that's what infuriates Connor.

He's absolutely clueless that Connor's losing more sleep than usual, and over him, to make matters worse. Because he's started featuring in more and more of Connor's dreams.

Connor finds himself dreaming more about running through flowers - prize-winning orchids, he thinks, or are they the prize-winning hydrangeas? - flowers that tower high above his head, lost and turned about. Lost in the housing complex Evan lives in, but also lost in his own garden, suddenly tripled in size, and Evan always seems to be in the corner of his eye, always just in reach, but always on the edge of the horizon, as well.

He's everywhere and nowhere, and he's lost.

He has no idea where he is or what's happening, but the tower Zoe is trapped in he can no longer find.

Connor is lost and stuck and terrified and angry.

And it gets really hard to seperate night terrors from reality.

~

Evan knows he's not the very definition of normal, but it would be nice to have some kind of part of him that could be considered as such.

Evan thought-

Evan doesn't even know.

It's not like he was weird enough by just watching people, he's got to be fascinated by the way people breathe, the hitch in their breaths when they cry, the heaving of their chests when they try to catch their breaths while laughing.

And it only gets worse, because Connor...

Connor holds his breath when he's upset. It's not something Evan means to notice. But it's hard not to.

Connor gets upset so easily, and so often, and Evan just sees him suck in a breath and just stop, eyes wide and bloodshot, face conflicted. He finds himself staring at the veins in Connor's neck that get more and more prominent the longer he holds it. Evan watches the way his chest shrinks again when he finally lets the breath out.

And Evan is hypnotised until Connor exhales.

~

Connor is trapped in the day, too. Trapped in his own head, trapped in a different kind of tower, banging his fists against the wall, screaming at the top of his lungs as if someone could hear him, through the stone, instead of just pacing and waiting, the way he'd seen Zoe do oh so many times.

In the night, he's lost and chasing and being chased, but, in the day, he is frozen and tied and trapped.

And he can't decide which is worse.

He can't decide what he hates more.

He isn't in control, anymore, and he doesn't know who is, or how he can take back the reins, or how he can take back his life.

Connor doesn't know when he stepped down, or why, and who replaced him.

And he's scared-

"Hey."

Connor jumps.

The hallway is empty. He closes his locker and turns, and there is the object of his...what?

Not affection. Not anger.

Just. There is Evan.

Connor swallows. "Hey."

Evan rubs his arm, at the elbow, just above the cast Connor never took in, before. "The bell went, like, three minutes ago. And you were just standing there." He goes a bit red, at that. "I just wanted to know if you were...okay, I guess? Or if you were going to stand there, forever."

"Um," Connor's still trying to tear himself from last nights torture, and doesn't quite know how to process what Evan's saying. "Uh, thank you?"

"Do you want me to...to stay with you? Like, do you want some company. Or, god, that was so assuming, you obviously want to be alone, and what was I thinking, I'll go."

"Wait! If you want to stay...?" Connor trails off. Evan's fingers tighten around the straps of his backpack.

"We probably shouldn't stay here..."

"Yeah. Um, come with me?"

And, Evan does.

So.

He.

Connor walks, and tries not to think too hard about it.

~

Somehow, they end up at the local pool, closed due to cold weather. Somehow, Evan finds himself sneaking in, Connor at his side. Somehow, Connor coaxes him up the stairs and onto the ten meter diving board. They seat themselves on the edge, legs dangling, a hand each gripping the railing. There's a safety gate on the edge, they're both pressed up against it.

They've been sitting on the top diving board for about fifteen minutes before Connor turns to him and says, "Do you reckon you'd die if you jumped off this, into the pool?"

"If you could," Evan says, slowly, "then they wouldn't have this height."

Connor gazes down at the pool. "But, if you fell in the wrong way...?"

Evan follows his gaze. The pool is still moving a little, making the sunnlight glint. "Are you considering it?" He asks, turning back to Connor.

Connor shakes his head, and then presses it against one of the metal poles on the safety gate. "No. I'm just curious." A pause. "When I was a kid and I'd come up to the diving boards, they'd always be wet, and I used to be scared that I'd slip and fall in and break my neck, or something. It never happened, of course. But the fear was still there. You know?"

There's a silence, punctuated by the clinking of Connor's fingernails against the railing. Evan finds it stifling.

Evan breathes in through his nose and pulls his legs out from between the gaps in the safety gate, crossing them as he leans against the railing. "How about instead of speculating the possibility of death, you tell me something about yourself."

"Like what?" Connor says.

"Like..." Evan finds himself utterly ill prepared with this question and licks his lips, trying to think something up, quickly. "Like what's your middle name?"

"Connor."

"What?"

He finally turns away from the edge, pulling his legs out from the safety gate, and facing Evan. "Connor is my middle name." Connor says in a measured tone, crossing his arms and staring down at the floor of the diving board. "My first name is James."

"Seriously?" Evan can't help asking, clapping a hand over his mouth immediately afterwards.

"Seriously." Connor echoes, a small smile quirking the corner of his mouth. "Your turn. What's your middle name?"

"Robin." Evan admits. "After my father's mother."

"There was no sentiment in my naming." Connor says, gruffly, and presses his temple to a bar in the safety gate. Evan imagines the iciness, sinking into Connor's skin. Connor's eyes drift close. "Just my parents wanting to sound as professional as possible."

"Connor suits you." Evan says, and flops down, back flat against the floor of the diving board. "I don't know if James does."

"You think?"

"I do." Connor is looking at him. Evan looks away, up at the sky. It's cloudy, he can't see the stars. "Okay, you ask me a question."

"Uh..." Connor makes a humming noise. "What's your mother's maiden name?"

"Hansen." Evan looks at him and Connor has an eyebrow raised. "My dad took my mom's name. Seemed easier to pronounce than his long-ass Icelandic surname."

"Your dad's Icelandic?" He sits up fully, and Evan follows suit, sitting opposite him, backs against the railing.

"Yup." Evan confirms. "It's where I get my rugged Viking looks."

"You're a broomstick with arms like tree trunks and a babyface." Connor deadpans, the beginning of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "Don't talk to me about rugged Viking looks."

"Like you're any better." Evan huffs, and shivers as the breeze picks up a bit. "You look like a malnourished vampire."

"Harsh." Connor says.

"That's for calling me a broomstick." Evan replies.

"At least you have nice arms and a cute face."

Evan disregards the comment, choosing, instead, to move on. "What's your mom's maiden name?"

"Callaghan. She's Irish." He doesn't sound very interested.

"Explains the hair."

"What?" Connor's picking at his nails.

"Her hair." Evan clarifies and wraps his arms around his legs.

"Yes." Connor nods, processing the conversation, slowly. "Her hair. And mine."

"Really?" Evan doesn't mean to sound so surprised, but it comes out that way, anyway.

"I'm a natural ginger." He continues, a quirk at the edge of his lips.

"No way."

"Yes way." And Connor nods, a little puff of breath coming out between the short laugh he lets out. "I dye it brown, regularly, because kids at school used to give me shit. It's also why I have weird-ass freckles in weird-ass places."

"Tell me about these freckles." Evan says, sitting up properly, and thumbing at the hem of his t-shirt. It's a little damp, from the rain, and that's just making him shiver more.

"Another time, Hansen, my dear. Ask me a question."

"If you could have any animal as a pet, what would it be?"

"I'd want a bat. Have you seen baby bats? They're the cutest thing, ever. What about you?"

"A hedgehog." Evan says, immediately.

"I'm not even surprised." Connor laughs, and the smile doesn't leave his face. Evan counts that as a success.

"Good." Evan says, as seriously as he can.

"What do you do for fun?"

He considers this. "I write. I've won a few short story competitions in my time. Oh, and I dry leaves and flowers."

"That's cute." Connor says, and there's no hesitancy in how he says it. "You'll have to show me, sometimes."

"Are you just trying to get into my room?" Evan inquires with a raised eyebrow.

"And if I am?" Connor responds, mirroring Evan's expression.

"You'll be blown away by my dried flower collection."

Connor lets out a short laugh and Evan raises his eyebrow, wondering what could possibly make him laugh from tart sentence. "That is not where I thought that sentence was going." He clarifies. "I heard 'you'll be blown' and my brain blanked."

"Get your mind out of the gutter." Evan shoves his shoulder. "What do you do for fun?"

"I smoke a joint and try to put puzzles together." Connor says, matter-of-factly.

Evan snorts at the obscurity of the answer, not all that amused, if he's honest. "I'll have to watch you do that, sometime."

"I'll let you know when I next plan to do that." Connor agrees. "Sometimes, I get distracted and make myself nachos, so that's also on the table."

"I'm excited."

"As you should be." Connor agrees, in a mock-serious tone. He sucks in a breath - Evan sways, dazed - and says, "Okay, next question...what do you want to be when you grow up?"

Evan scrambles to regain his place in the conversation, "He says to the eighteen year-old, anxious as hell boy."

"Aren't I supposed to be the sarcastic one, here?" Connor says, shaking his head.

"Are you?" He teases.

"Answer the question." He snaps, but there's no bite.

"I want to be..." Evan considers this. "Happy."

"Geez." Connor laughs, but in that incredulous way, like he doesn't know how to react, so the best thing for him to do is laugh.

Evan huffs, leaning against the railing. "Well, what about you?" He returns, crossing his arms over his chest.

Connor takes a second, and then stands, and says, "Olympic diver."

"Oh har har." Evan says. He realises his mistake when Connor raises his eyebrow.

"No, seriously," Connor says, and begins to climb the safety gate, "watch this!"

"Connor!" Evan cries as Connor jumps and gets up, rushing to the gate, and looking over, just in time to see Connor hit the water. He hits the water with a loud smack, his whooping and laughter lost to the wind.

~

They get to second period late, and everyone seems to be wondering why they're both dripping wet, but no one asks.

(Answer? Connor jumped ten meters into a pool and pulled Evan in when Evan climbed all the way down to see if he was dead.)

(Neither of them are sorry, although, Connor is worried Evan will get a cold.)

~

That night Evan dreams of drowning in ink. It floods down his throat, choking him, when he opens his mouth to scream. There is nothing to grab onto. He feels like he's falling, through the air, but also like he's propelling himself down, below the surface, like he's doing it deliberately. Like he meant to. Like he's trying to touch the bottom, but he just keeps sinking, and he can't stop, and no matter how hard he kicks, he's just making it worse, and he can't quite see where he is, and it's just getting darker, and Evan thinks this is worse, this is so much worse, he may have felt like he wanted to die a few weeks ago, may have joked about it to Jared, but not like this, never like this, sinking like a rock, like he has cement stuck to his feet, like there's no fight left in him.

~

Evan approaches him again. They haven't spoken since a few days ago, when they walked to the pool (and into the pool, in Connor’s case), and then back for second period.

"You look tired." He notes.

"I am tired." Connor replies, and Evan nods, fingers wrapped around the straps of his backpack.

"Are you going to skip first period again?" Evan asks.

"Do you want me to?" He says.

And Evan smiles, just a little bit, and he lightens.

So, he skips, again, with Evan, and tries not to think of how he finds himself willing to do anything for Evan as they go to the park nearby the school and he swings on a swing that's much too small for him.

~

Evan feels a little giddy that he has someone who wants to spend time with him, now. Evan feels a little giddy that that someone would take his smile as affirmation and they'd _Mission: Impossible_ their way out of school to hang out.

Evan feels a little giddy even if Connor looks a little miserable.

He bumps their shoulders together when they walk back to school, and Connor cracks a small smile.

It's better than nothing.

~

Connor tries not to care about him. He really, truly does, but it doesn't make much difference. He can't help it, seeing him out of the corner of his eye.

Can't help seeing Evan fucking Hansen walk out of a 7/11, eating red liquorice sticks, adjusting the straps of his backpack.

Can't help seeing him walk through the mud to get to the sidewalk.

Can’t help seeing him glance at the sky with furrowed eyebrows as it begins to rain.

And it's not like he can leave him out there, is it?

So, he pulls over.

"Need a lift?" He asks, rolling down the window.

Evan sort of smiles. "My mom always told me not to get into stranger's cars." He says, but opens the door.

"No one in this town's stranger than me." Connor quips, rolling up the window again, and pulling back onto the road.

And a thought occurs to him.

His title as leading pretender, his gold medal dangles, imaginary yet still heavy around his neck. He has to ask.

"Are we friends, Evan?"

He flicks on the windscreen wipers and they squeak as they sweep raindrops off the glass.

"I think so." Evan replies. They pull to a stop at an intersection.

Connor nods. “Good.” He says, nodding more.

He drives Evan home. He meets Evan's mom, on her way out the door, for a night class.

She smiles at him with the same kind of smile Evan wears. Connor leaves the house, not sure what exactly to make of the Hansen’s.

~

His mom stops him before he leaves for school the next morning. “So, where did _he_ come from?”

At first, he has no idea what she's talking about. Then he realises she's talking about Connor. “School. That party, a couple of weeks ago.”

She smiles, slyly. “That so?”

“Yeah. He's…he's great.” Evan allows, and smiles at his shoes.

“I'm glad. You should probably stop skipping classes to hang out with him, though. Just leave me a note if you're going out.”

Evan mock-salutes her and then leaves.

~

He drives Evan to 7/11 after school, buys him a sour green apple Slurpee and red liquorice sticks.

Connor drives Evan home.

Evan invites him inside.

(Any time he can spend away from his own house, is time he'll take.)

Evan's house is a lot smaller than Connor first assumed.

There are stools tucked under the jut of the kitchen bench, serving as a dining room, as well as a kitchen. The washing machine and dryer are tucked in beside the dishwasher, and the lounge room sits just off the kitchen. To the left of both rooms is a wall of linen cabinets and a pantry and a supply closet. A stairwells is tucked between the linen cupboard and the pantry, narrow and steep, leading up to three rooms, a master bedroom, a smaller bedroom, and a bathroom with a toilet and shower and vanity.

Evan's room sits on one side of the bathroom, while the master bedroom sits on the other side. The head of Evan's bed shares a wall with the pipes from the bathroom.  
Connor feels uncomfortable. Every house in this complex is like this. And, yes, it's efficient, and cosy, but it seems too cramped to him, too impersonal.

So much room wasted on necessities.

Or, perhaps, Connor just has too much room, at home.

"I can see you _Better Homes and Gardening_ my house, Connor." Evan notes, sitting down on his bed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Connor inquires. He doesn't mean to stare, but he’s slightly entranced by the freckles covering Evan’s face, the sunshine freckles that grace his cheeks and nose and, from what Connor can see, his shoulders. And…Connor shouldn't be thinking about that.

"You're rich, I'm poor." Evan shrugs and gestures to his sparsely decorated room. "You're not used to conditions, like these. You're a little disappointed, and that's fine."

“What do you mean, ‘conditions like these’?” Connor replies, sitting down next to him. The far wall is sparsely decorated but there are a few framed photos and a few certificates for things. A singular postcard is blu-tacked to the wall. It’s a picture of a forest that Connor can't name.

Evan fidgets with his quilt cover, scrunching it in his fists. “You can't tell me you haven't seen how small my house is. My house could probably fit into your living room. You have a _chandelier_ in your _entryway.”_

“And you think I'm judging you because of your house?” And he says it in a tone that says _just checking._

Evan’s forehead crease. “Maybe.” He admits, softly.

Connor takes a deep breath and takes Evan’s hand, trying to pretend that his own isn't shaking like a leaf. “Evan Hansen, I am not disappointed by you, or anything about you. I am about as far from disappointed as someone can get.”

Evan looks up at him, and Connor doesn't let himself breathe, for a second. And then he squeezes Connor’s hand and they both look down at the floor, electricity fizzling where they're intertwined.

~

Something changes.

Connor hangs out with him. Connor drives him places, when he needs to go places.

Connor invites him over, and Evan invites Connor over, and it's only mostly awkward, but a little okay, and that's all that Evan needs.

~

Zoe seems to notice a change in him. She stops him on the stairs, one afternoon, when Connor’s getting ready to leave for Evan’s house, with a quick detour to Jared Kleinman’s house.

“What's up with you?” She asks, and while she looks worried, she also looks lighter than she has in ages. Connor wishes that wasn't something he could track back to his slow ascent to happiness.

“Huh?” He asks, instead of answering what is quite an obvious question.

“You're acting weird.” Zoe clarifies, and gestures in his general direction. “You're going out, having friends over when no one’s home.”

“You can blame yourself, I guess.” Connor says, shrugging, and begins walking down the stairs again.

“What?” Zoe calls after him.

“I met him at your party!” He replies, reaching the door, and trying to ignore the spring in his step.

(He hasn't dreamed of her in weeks.)

~

The wine is cheap box wine. It's as dry as regular, 20 dollar wine, but sour.

Evan doesn't know where Connor got it - his parents drink the expensive stuff from local "sustainable" vineyards, and Connor doesn't have a fake ID.

So, the next best bet is Jared. And Evan has absolutely no doubt that Jared would give Connor shitty box wine if he asked for it. God knew Jared's parents had too much of it.

Anyway.

Heidi just left for a long shift - ten to four. Evan didn't want to be alone, so he invited Connor around for a movie night. And Connor brought wine.

And who was Evan to turn down a glass?

Except, he’s on his third glass, and laughing over a paused screencap of _Gravity Falls,_ too tipsy to feel embarrassed. They're only watching shit on Evan’s crappy TV because there’s nothing on Netflix, and Connor decided they should lug the thing up the stairs and put it on Evan’s dresser to watch, because the fold out mattress is crap. Connor paused Evan's TiVo when Evan started laughing over a joke he'd heard two weeks ago.

Evan lets out another giggle at the blurred animation, paused on screen, and Connor shakes, next to him, so, if he's not mistaken, Connor's cracked.

He can pretend that he's not a lightweight, but Evan will always know the truth.

Evan moves his wine out of the way as Connor flops down in Evan's lap, and Evan presses PLAY, again.

He puts the TV on one of the lowest volume settings, though, so, when Connor gestures for him to lean down so he can whisper in his ear, he can hear it.

There's a puff of air against his skin, and then soft lips pressed to the shell of his ear.

No words. The lips move to his temple, where his hair is clipped short.

They move again, to his forehead, and then Evan shifts so it's not so awkward, and when he gets sick of the slow descent, kisses Connor in a sloppy parody of the Tobey McGuire _Spiderman_ movies.

It's awkward. Evan's neck hurts.

(Evan isn't even sober enough to properly realise that they're kissing.)

"This sucks," he laughs into Connor's mouth. He tastes a little sweeter than the wine, but the sourness remains, behind his teeth, in the hollows of his cheeks.

"Sorry I can't impress." Connor slurs, reaching his hands up to sift them in the hair at the top of Evan's head. "Why've you gotta have such little hair? What can I tug on?"

"What?" Evan murmurs, reaching into his lap to find Connor's own curls. "Like this?"

He yanks, sharply, and Connor yelps, smacking his forehead into Evan's.

Evan flails backwards, into the wall, laughing, and hits his head on the wall. Connor gets up on his knees and pushes Evan into the pillows, laughing. "Not the kind of bruises people expect on teenagers, huh?" He says, and kisses Evan in that soft way that you only see in romance movies.

That sweet way that people long for.

That hopeful way that starts with hello and ends with goodbye but comes right back and Evan kisses him again, looping his arms around Connor's neck, and canting his hips up into Connor's.

"D'you reckon you could help me out of these?" He says, and Connor arches an eyebrow.

"Skinny jeans? Nah, man, you're trapped, forever." He shakes his head, and laughs at Evan's aghast expression. "'Sides, gotta keep it PG for the kiddos."

Connor gestures back to the TV, and Evan looks up at Dipper and Mabel running from whatever obscure monster is featured in this episode. "I'll change it to the porn channel, don't think I won't." He says in a mockingly threatening tone.

"One; you don't know which channel is the porn channel." Connor bumps their foreheads together, and kisses the corner of Evan's mouth. It's sloppy, but Evan could seriously care less. "Two; that doesn't come on until two. Three; you think I'd rather watch some hetero couple have bizarro sex with no plot than watch _Gravity Falls?"_

"One; what makes you think I don't know which channel is the porn channel?" Evan raises an eyebrow at Connor and laughs at his pleasantly shocked expression. "Two; how would you know it comes on at two unless you were even vaguely into some hetero couples having bizarro sex?"

"Oh, fuck you, Hansen!" Connor cries, sitting up, bony ass on Evan's knees. It's uncomfortable for both of them.

Evan sits up, and laughs, incredulously, at the entire conversation they're having. "Oh, don't be bitter."

Connor throws his head back and laughs. "Alright. We're doing this. Are we doing this?" Evan gives him a nod. "Okay. Cool. Can I take off my shirt?"

"I'll take it off for you." Evan says, and, after a confirming nod from Connor, attempts to pull the garment over his head. It gets caught on Connor's chin and he starts laughing. He flails his arms, and helps Evan remove it.

Once his ripped black t-shirt is on Evan's carpet, Connor gives Evan an assessing look.

"Does your mommy know you watch bad television porn at two am?" He asks, in a slurring, joking voice.

"If 'my mommy' knew about anything I did at two am, I would have died of mortification, by now." Evan deadpans and bursts into laughter at Connor's expression, caught off guard and amused.

"Oh, wow." He laughs, but Evan watches in pleased surprise as Connor's cheeks go pink.

"Can I take off my shirt?"

"If you want. You don't have to. You don't have to take anything off. This can be a Connor-Isn't-Wearing-A-Shirt Party. I don't mind."

"Nah, I'd feel bad. This's gotta be a Evan-And-Connor-Aren't-Wearing-Shirts Party, if it's a party at all."

"Alright."

Evan's sweater ends up on the floor, and Connor cups the back of his head. "You have really pretty eyes." He comments, and kisses Evan's eyelids, like that's something that regularly happens. Evan doesn't mind.

Evan doesn't really want to wait much longer. He knows they're inexperienced, and drunk, and it's probably a bad decision, but he puts his hands on Connor's waist anyway, and kisses him properly.

Connor deserves to be kissed properly.

Connor deserves a lot of things that Evan can't give him, but Evan never promised forever.

Just right now.

He lets one hand slip down Connor's hot skin, to the waistband of his black skinny jeans. "Skinny jeans? Death trap. Roll for Perception."

Connor falls onto his back, Evan's blue off-brand Converse either side of his hips, laughing. "I'm sorry, but did you just reference D&D while we were making out, you absolute nerd?"

Evan huffs, shuffling around, and leans over Connor, between his legs. "Like you're any better." He replies, and the hand not holding him over Connor slides down Connor's warm skin, to the waistband of his skinny jeans, again. "Tell me if it's not okay."

He kisses Connor, softly, and pops the button open, sliding down the zipper. His hand slides into Connor's jeans, after that, sliding down the front of his briefs. Connor moans.

And Evan's lost on him.

~

They walk to school, the next day, and Connor's so tired he doesn't even think about how obvious it is that he's wearing the same clothes from the day before.

~

Everything seems to be going well, going smoothly, going happily for the first time in Evan’s life, not burdened by another passive aggressive postcard from Colorado, or another failed attempt to communicate what he really wants to say to his mother or his therapist. Everything seems to be going well.

And then Connor goes to get Evan's book for him, from his bag, and Evan finds himself at home that night with a missing bottle of Xanax from his backpack, and then he gets a call from his mother letting him know that his friend has been admitted to hospital.

His mother pleads with him to not freak out, down the phone, asking him if he can just come down to the hospital? She promises that it's all under control.

Connor insists that he hadn't been trying to kill himself. Connor insists that he was just popping uppers for fun, popping downers to level out, that the bath had been impulsive, and that at the point at which he had realised that he couldn't move it was already too late.

Connor talks about not being able to breathe like it's something miraculous. He talks about toeing the line of death like it's sport. He talks about being stuck under the water, and not being able to move, and just staring upwards like he might just close his eyes and that'd be the end of it.

Zoe says he's lucky she noticed the water overflowing into the corridor, since Connor didn’t bother turning off the taps.

And Connor closes his eyes and holds his breath and lets the tears slide down his face, and seems to forget that Evan is still sitting there.

Evan thinks he's got to be some kind of monster. Because he's the reason Connor had access to the drugs that got him into such a state, because he's now responsible for the breathless look on Connor's face.

He’s responsible for silence that came with Connor slowly but surely wasting away beneath the water, right before Zoe broke down the door and fished him out.

He's got to be some kind of monster, that's the only explanation that makes sense.

~

Connor’s parents demand to know where he got the pills. They think he bought them off someone. He's not sure if that's worse than impulsively stealing them from his best friend/boyfriend.

It doesn't matter. Everything's ruined now.

A stupid decision, that stupid little voice in his head reminding him that he's the biggest faker in the world, a bottle of pills that were all too enticing, all too promising. A bottle of pills that promised to take the numbness away.

And it all came crashing down.

They release him from the hospital, and he's basically on house arrest.

He only ever goes out to school, now, being driven by Zoe, his car parked in the garage, his keys safe in his parents dresser. He thinks he's probably ruined everything with Evan, even if Evan came to see him in the hospital.

It's probably all ruined, now.

Connor’s ruined everything.

~

To the untrained eye, Connor's brush with death does not seem to faze him. At all.

Evan is not an untrained eye.

Connor seems thinner than before. His bags deepen, he slumps more, he doesn't react to anything.

But he sees Evan looking and he perks up. He brightens.

Evan feels sick to his stomach.

~

It comes to him like flashes of vertigo. He's in the shower and suddenly he can't breathe. He's trying to go to sleep and suddenly he can't breathe. He's sitting in the passenger seat of Zoe’s dumb little yellow buggy and suddenly he can't breathe.

Connor feels like he's going insane. Connor feels like he's lost control of his life, once more.

Connor doesn't know what to do.

~

He finds him in the locker room when they're supposed to be in the gym. He's leaning over a sink, tap running, face wet. Evan's not sure if it's tears or tap water. It doesn't really matter, because Connor's frame is shaking.

Evan helps him onto the floor and Connor grips him as tightly as Evan did the night they met at Zoe’s party. Connor's chest heaves.

"What happened?" Evan whispers, running a hand over Connor's hair. "What's wrong?"

"I couldn't breathe." Connor gasps. "I couldn't breathe, I couldn't come up, I thought I was going to die."

"Oh." The sink begins to overflow. There's paper towel blocking the drain. "Connor."

"Tell me I can breathe." He says. "Tell me it's okay. Tell me _how."_

"You can breathe, Connor. I swear."

"I _can't_ \- it's too-"

"You can."

~

So, it's crazy that he ends up where he does, with Evan.

Ends up in Evan's tiny twin bed, barely stopping himself from banging his knees into the wall, or hitting his head on the headboard.

He ends up on his back, wrists pinned to the pillow, by his head by Evan, kissing Evan, chest to chest with Evan.

Evan is all he can focus on.

And that's.

It's.

Well.

He can't think, can't see, can't breathe (and that would be a problem for him, a huge problem, if it weren't for Evan), and all there is is Evan. Just Evan.

Instead of water drowning him, instead of a medal strangling him, it's Evan; Evan and all his good intentions.

And Connor will gladly die by Evan's hand - better his than Connor's own, accidental or not - and he'll like it.

He'll enjoy it.

Unfortunately, his body does not share the same sentiment as his mind, and it begs him to breathe, so he pulls away.

And Evan seems to understand. Even if he doesn't fully understand, he just seems to know that Connor wants to drown in absolution, seems to know how to get there.

Evan release his wrists, but Connor doesn't move them, and Evan pushes Connor's t-shirt up his stomach, bending so he can press his lips to the skin there, warm and pliant. It's a chance to catch his breath, but Connor can't take it, because the sight of Evan like that, even if he is just using Evan to feel something, even if he is just seeing if this will end the nightmare that continues in his mind, the sight of Evan bent over him, and the feel of him, it leaves Connor breathless.

Evan makes quick work of his belt. It clinks open and Connor lowers his hands to Evan's hair. It's soft against the pads of his fingers. Evan opens his jeans and pushes them down his hips.

Connor knows what happens after this, of course he does. He's not an idiot.

Evan shifts further down Connor's legs, and looks up at him. "You okay?" He asks.

Connor can't speak. He just needs.

He just wants.

He.

Connor lowers his hands further, and starts pulling at Evan's top. Evan pulls away and tugs it over his head.

"Evan, you don't...just, hold on." Connor pulls off his vest and then his shirt, and beckons Evan to get closer.

Evan doesn't. He just stares at Connor, at his face, at his hands. Connor opens his mouth to ask what's wrong. Evan beats him to the punch. “I could have lost you.” He says.

Connor goes cold. “Is now really the time?” He asks, tiredly. It's only been a few weeks, and recovery, especially from something like this, it isn't easy. He doesn't really want to talk about it.

“But it's true.” Evan insists. “And it would have been all my fault.”

“No, it wouldn't.” Connor shakes his head, wildly. “How would that be your fault? I'm the one who stole your fucking Xanax and drowned myself in the bathtub. It's not like you forced those pills down my throat. If anything, you should be angry.”

“You want me to be _angry?”_ His tone is incredulous. His tone is a whole other message. It's clear that was the wrong thing to say. It's clear Evan feels sick that Connor would think of him, that way. His expression goes hard. “Fine. I'll be angry. You stole my anxiety medication to get _high_. Like, I'm glad _you_ were having fun because _I_ sure wasn't. You broke my trust, you stole from me, and then you almost died.” He stops, taking a deep breath and wiping his hands around his eyes. “I can make this as much about me as you so obviously want me to, but I'm not going to.”

“Evan-” Connor tries.

“You hurt yourself as much as you hurt me.” Evan continues, very clearly not interested in hearing Connor try to take back the words that came out of his mouth, the words that have been running in circles in his brain since that day in the bathroom. Why wasn't he angry? “And I could have lost you. I was so close to losing you. I don't want that. But I don't want… _this,_ if all you're going to do is pick a fight.”

“You brought it up.” Connor counters, feeling cold, feeling numb.

“Because you're important to me, Connor.” His voice rises in desperation to get his point across. Connor hates this, he hates it. “Because I care about you, and I need you to know that. You've been so quiet, so out of yourself lately, I needed to make you aware that I'm here for you.”

“Is this what it's gonna be like, now?” Evan reaches for Connor’s hand and Connor snatches it away. “Every other silent moment you're just gonna remind me how you would've missed me? I'm such an idiot. I've ruined everything. I'm never going to be able to have anything normal with you because of what I did. And I'd deserve it.”

“No, Connor, don't make this trauma about me.” Evan just looks sad, now. “This is about you.”

“Exactly. You’re never gonna look at me the same way again. It's always gonna be with pity.”

“No. Not pity. I don't pity you-”

“I can't be here.” Connor says and gets off of Evan’s tiny bed, reaching for his shirt and his shoes.

“Connor.” Evan reaches out for him. He's too far away.

“I can't-” he can't get the words out. He just leaves.

~

Evan thinks that maybe that's how it ends. He can't make himself get up and chase Connor down. It was all very final. It was all very resolute.

Whatever they had, whatever sat on that fragile line of romance and friendship is gone, now, ended.

He lies on his bed. He tries to think of what to do next. Cry, lie he's just been broken up with? Text Jared, ask for some dumb box wine to get tipsy on? Sneak into the public swimming pool and sit on the ten meter high diving board? Walk to 7/11 and buy a slurpee?

Evan doesn't want to do anything.

It feels like he's been broken up with. He doesn't even know if what they had ever classified as a relationship.

~

It's the worst he's ever felt. Of course his dumb stunt ended it all. Everything good is gone.

Connor ignores all the self destructive thoughts that rise to the surface of his mind and look all so appealing. He just walks home and face plants onto his bed, wanting to cry but not knowing whether he had the right to.

He's the one that walked out, after all. He's the one who picked the fight. He the one who drowned himself in the bathtub.

Connor doesn't cry. But he wants to.

~

There's a rocky kind of divide between them, now. They stay as far away from each other as possible, at school, now. They don't speak. They don't meet eyes. They don't pass notes or hang out by each other's lockers. They don't skip first period to fall into pools or swing on swing sets that are much too small for them.

The weather gets colder. Festive decorations go up all over town. Snow starts to fall, repetitive music begins to play in stores and on the radio.

Evan tries to ignore it all. He hates how overconsuming Christmas, as a whole, is.

He and his mom make preparations for their own holiday. Jared hands him a terribly knitted blue and white jumper with a menorah on it.

“Figured you needed a pick-me-up after Murphy dumped you.” He says, and Evan rolls his eyes.

“We weren't dating.” The jumper goes into his bag. His mom will be pleased. “But thanks.”

“Absolutely no problem.” Jared gives the corridor a cursory look. “You going to Zoe's Christmas-slash-New Years party on New Years Eve?”

“Why would I do that?” Evan puts his calculus book back in his locker. “I'm Jewish.”

“So am I, and I'm going.” Jared replies, shrugging.

He sighs, pulling his English book out of his locker and putting it in his bag. “Is this another unofficial invite only party?”

“No. She _deliberately_ invited the seniors. Must have had a good time, last time.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“C’mon, Ev.” Jared whines, following after Evan when he's closed his locker. “It'll be good closure for you.”

“No, Jared.” Evan shakes his head. “The last party I went to with you, you ended up drunk in your own backseat.”

“And you and your boyfriend made sure I got safely home with my wallet and phone still on me.” Jared says.

“I'm not going.” Evan says to him.

“At least think about it.” And now Jared looks serious. For. Guy who abandoned him as soon as they walked in the door of the last party they went to he's very keen on Evan going.

“I have, and I'm saying no.”

“Okay, fine.” Jared leaves him in the doorway of his classroom, and Evan hefts his backpack further up his shoulders.

~

“It's a fusion Christmas-slash-New Years party.” Zoe explains, putting another stack of red solo cups in her basket.

“That's so dumb.” He replies, taking them out and putting them back on the shelf because he knows they have at least five stacks under the kitchen sink leftover from the last party she threw.

“It's not dumb.” She says, giving the plastic platters a very serious look. “It's a time saver.”

Four of them go into her basket. “I can't believe mom and dad are letting you have another party after that disaster back in September.” Connor grumbles.

“Hey, that wasn't a disaster.” Zoe protests, and they move to the next aisle. “You had fun.”

“I retreated into my bedroom with a boy who had anxiety and I ended up driving I everyone home.” He says and throws a packet of sour patch kids into her basket. She glares and he shrugs.

“It won't be like that, this time.” Zoe tells him, with a confidence in her voice that Connor has learnt not to trust.

“Oh yeah?” He asks.

“Yeah.” She agrees, and grabs three family sized packs of M&M’s.

“And how do you know that?”

“I just do.” Zoe says, throwing some Doritos in the basket, for good measure. “C’mon, you know it'll be fun.”

“It will not.” Connor disagrees, but follows her to the check out with his arms full of soft drinks.

~

So. Maybe Evan changes his mind.

His mom is happy he's getting out of the house.

Jared picks him up and Evan spends the whole ride over wondering if Connor will take one look at him and throw him out.

He doesn't see Connor when he steps in the door. He loses Jared very early on. There's a bonfire in the courtyard, outside. People are toasting marshmallows and huddling under blankets. He spends a little bit of time hanging out around the bonfire, playing a very half-hearted game of Chubby Bunnies with who he is assuming is Dana P. He cannot be sure, especially considering she seems doused up o the eyes in tequila shots and she keeps calling him Matt.

Evan eventually finds himself grabbing a red solo cup and pouring a glass of tap water, wandering into the living room, where the music is perhaps its loudest.

It's close to midnight, but Evan is still surprised that people are already wasted.

Evan stands himself in the doorway from the entryway to the living room and reads something on his phone, taking short sips of water when he needs to.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Says a vaguely shaking voice and Evan looks up so quickly he very nearly loses his balance. Connor is standing not too far away from him. Evan shouldn't be surprised. After all, Connor does live here.

Evan licks his lips and clears his throat. “Well, I'm not a big Christmas party person. Or, come to think of it, I'm not a big party person, period.”

“Well, this is a fusion Christmas-slash-New Years party, so you don't have to worry much about the whole Christmas deal.” Connor replies, matter-of-factly.

“So I'm told.” Evan agrees.

“Of course, you _should_ probably worry about that.” Connor points at something above Evan’s head and Evan looks up. A sprig of mistletoe stares down at him in what Evan might describe as a malevolent way, if it had a face in which to express malevolence.

Evan steps quickly out from under it, towards Connor. “It's very worrying.” He agrees, quietly.

Connor decides to change the subject and avoid acknowledging the fact that he found Evan under the mistletoe. “You're not a big Christmas party kind of guy?”

Evan nods. “I'm Jewish.”

“Ah. Well.” Evan wonders how that never came up. “That'd do it.”

“It would, indeed.” He says, awkwardly.

A beat. “So, it's been, like, a month?” Evan is beyond confused as to why Connor is deciding to drive this conversation. “How've you been?”

“Oh, you know, quiet.” Evan responds, taking a sip of water. “Got a Christmas card from my dad and his new family. Pretty standard holiday shitiness from him.”

“Geez,” Connor says, and runs a hand through his hair. His nails are bitten down to the beds. “I will never stop wondering how your dad is so much of a douchebag and you're not.”

“I think I'm douchebag-y enough.” Evan counters, solemnly. “You think too highly of me.”

“I don't think so.” Connor says, quickly.

There's a pause in the conversation. A very wide gap between them.

Connor breaks first. “I’m really sorry about that shit I said to you.”

“I don't really want to talk about it.” Evan mumbles, taking a long drink of water.

“I feel like we should. We're never gonna really recover until we do.”

Evan looks around, and sighs a bit. “If you're going to insist, I'm not having this conversation, here.”

“That's fine.” Connor says, with a pleased sort of smile. “I have an empty bedroom.”

“We’re going to sit on the floor.” Evan says.

“As you wish.” Is the response.

~

In reality, Connor didn't ever want to have this conversation. It's only that Jared Kleinman found him, early on in the party and he and Zoe held an intervention in the walk-in pantry about not leaving his problems to simmer.

And now, here he is, closing his bedroom door at 11:50 pm on New Years Eve to try and resolve this mess he made for himself. Evan sits himself down beside Connor’s bed, leaning against the frame of it. Connor takes a seat opposite him. Back against the bookshelf.

He doesn't really know where to start.

“I'm sorry for all that shit I said to you.” He begins. It really has been a while since they've spoken because Evan looks mildly surprised at his language. It's enough to make him smile. He doesn't. He has to get through this. 11:52 pm. “I'm sorry for stealing your meds. I'm sorry for brushing you off and telling you to be angry at me when you were obviously trying to help me. I'm sorry for breaking your trust. I'm sorry for walking out.”

“You don't have to apologise for all that shit.” Evan says, abruptly.

Connor can't help but feel surprised. Jared and Zoe were so pushy about him doing this, that Connor wasn't expecting resignation. “What?”

“The only reason I was angry that day was because I was scared. I'd been scared since I couldn't find my pills and I was still scared that day.” Evan continues, wrapping his arms around his torso in what is clearly a very defensive move. “You weren't in a good place, I could see that. You can apologise for walking out, that's fine, but the rest of it was because I was scared and angry.”

“But what I did was wrong.” Connor says.

“And I should have been glad that you hadn't died.” Evan looks directly at him, now. “But instead all I could think was ‘what if it happens again?’ I'm not going to make you work for forgiveness for something I should've gotten over.”

“Evan.” He's never heard his own voice so soft. The alarm clock on his bedside table tells him it's 11:56 pm.

“I'm sorry for driving you away. I'm sorry for everything I said. I'm sorry for playing the victim during a time in which you needed me.” Evan says, and he's going so quickly that Connor can't really keep up.

“Don't apologise.” Connor says, almost desperately.

Evan shakes his head. “We’ll never get anywhere if I don't apologise to you.”

“You didn't _do_ anything.” Connor protests, but Evan starts shaking his head again.

“Yes I did. And I'm sorry.” Connor doesn't know what to say. Evan pats the spot on the floor beside him, and Connor moves over to sit there. There's silence for a minute or two. 11:59 pm. Evan takes his hand carefully, lightly. Connor could pull away, easily. He doesn't. A countdown begins, downstairs. “I want you back in my life, even if it's just as a friend, the way we were when we started.”

Connor turns to look at him. “I want you back in my life, too.” His voice is so low he wonders if Evan heard him.

Evan stares at him, and squeezes his hand. “So are we starting again?”

“I think it's more like continuing on from where we were.”

“Three!”

"I thought I'd ruined everything."

“Two!”

“And now?”

“One!”

“Now, I'm just wondering if you'll let me kiss you.”

“Happy new year!”

 

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading to the end! If you have some opinions on this, please let me know what they are in the comments, leave a kudos if you like, and while you're at it, why don't you check out some of @PrinceDrew's work, because I gaurantee it's all heart wrenching and beautiful.
> 
> Hmu on Tumblr @nose-coffee. I'm bad at holding conversations, but I can give it a go.
> 
> Again, thank you!


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